Free Torn Sky (Rebel Wing Trilogy, Book 3) (Rebel Wing Series) by Tracy Banghart

and walked out. If he said anything else, she didn’t hear it.
    It took Dysis a few wrong turns and a friendly mender’s assistant to find the sleeping quarters. Her new room was larger than the one she’d shared with Aris and Pallas in Spiro, with the bonus of a small window on the far wall. Three cots were positioned beneath it, two with rumpled sheets, the other pristine. That must be hers. The edge of her duffle peeked out from underneath.
    Dysis sank to the edge of the bed. It was nice not having Calix hovering. But here, by herself, she had the same problem she’d had while trapped in that awful med-bed.
    Too much goddamn time to think.
    “Someone give me something to do.
Please.
” She bent, head in hands, and tried to scrub out the darkness of her memories. She’d rather be doing something—anything—than waiting around for the world to end.
    “As you wish.”
    Dysis threw her head up so fast her neck cracked.
    A tall woman stood in the doorway, her snake tattoo staring impassively into the room.
    “Dianthe?” Dysis stood up. She wasn’t quite as tall, but she had more muscle. Dianthe was so thin she looked as if you could snap her just by shaking her hand, but Dysis had heard the stories of her training sessions. The woman was unbreakable.
    “I heard you were being released from the sick bay today,” Dianthe said. “I have a job for you. Come on.” She turned and disappeared without waiting for a response.
    “Wait!” Dysis yelled. She needed her uniform—breakfast—
    But Dianthe didn’t return to the doorway.
    Dysis hurried after her, self-consciously smoothing her rumpled sleep pants. Dianthe gave her no quarter for her injury, taking long strides down the hall. It was easy to get turned around; the hallways were all the same blank white, with the same glaringly bright lights above. Small signs hung at each juncture with lists of locations—cafeteria, sick bay, dorms, exit—and arrows pointing the way.
    “Where are we going?” Dysis asked, embarrassed at how breathless she was.
    Dianthe didn’t answer. She wove through a group of soldiers returning from morning formation without giving them time to move out of her way.
    Dysis looked for Aris or Pallas, someone she knew, but didn’t see anyone familiar. Aris’s “special unit” must still be out training. Dysis hated not knowing for sure. She should be out there, with her friends. It didn’t make any sense, she knew, but somehow she couldn’t help feeling that if she were with them, she could keep them safe.
    At last Dianthe slowed in a hallway labeled security. She swiped a passcard across the panel next to a door, then tapped in a four-digit number. The door slid open to reveal a small room with a bank of monitors. All of them were black except for one. A single soldier wearing earbuds hunched over the lit workstation. Dianthe touched the man’s shoulder. He jumped, looked up at her, and removed a bud.
    “He just received a coded comm from his Atalantan contact,” he said. “He’s leaving for the meeting place now.” The soldier shot a look at Dysis. He was a few years older than she was, with the pale, slightly squint-eyed look of a comms agent. “Who’s this?”
    “Your replacement, Lieutenant.” Dianthe waved a hand between them. “Lieutenant Raven, Specialist Latza. You’re now on eight-hour shifts with the radio. Raven, you’ve got overnights, Latza you’re on days. I’ll take the evening shift. This radio must be manned at all times. You will not miss a shift, and you will tell no one what you’re listening to. As far as the rest of the point is concerned, you’re doing boring comms work, like the rest of our techies.” She turned to Dysis. “Raven is my man, unaffiliated with Spiro or Mekia. He is the only one, aside from me and Commander Nyx, who you should trust with your reports. Do you understand?”
    Dysis was still trying to catch up, but that seemed clear enough. “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Raven, go get